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too much. As for what I like,” she wrapped her hand around his arm, “probably action, mysteries, romantic comedies.”
    â€œIck,” Trevor said.
    Sarah laughed, “Well, I guess I know what movies you don’t like.”
    â€œWhat about scary movies?” Trevor asked.
    â€œYeah, they are okay, but I never watch them alone.”
    â€œMe either. If I do, I watch them with my teddy bear.” Trevor pushed out his lower lip into a pout. Sarah laughed, but before she could respond a group of people came out of another club in front of them.
    â€œTobian Morrison!” an intoxicated girl fell forward and hugged her. Sarah laughed and talked with this girl for a couple of minutes before pulling away and returning to Trevor.
    â€œWhy did she call you Tobian?”
    Sarah slid her hand around Trevor’s elbow. “That is my name.”
    He paused. “Now that I know your real name do you have to kill me?”
    She laughed and pulled on his arm. They began to walk again.
    â€œNo, my first name is Tobian. My family and most of my friends call me that. My parents wanted a creative, unique name before I was born. I have never liked it. Kids made fun of me growing up. I would rather people call me Sarah, which is my middle name.”
    â€œTell me who those kids are, I’ll find them right now.” Trevor looked around the dark street. Sarah laughed again.
    â€œHere is my place.” She stopped and pointed at the building before them.
    â€œWell, have a wonderful night, Sarah.”
    â€œYou too, Trevor, but there is one last thing.” His heart jumped in anticipation. Was she going to kiss him? Sarah reached into her bag and pulled out a pen, grabbed Trevor’s hand and wrote her number down on his arm. He smiled, content with not receiving a kiss. That was something to look forward to. He was happy knowing she expected him to call her and that she wanted to see him again.
    â€œI’ll get a hold of you tomorrow then?”
    â€œYeah, that would be great.” She turned and climbed her stairs, looking back twice, before going inside.
    Trevor walked on down the street happier than he had been in a long time. That night as he fell asleep, Sarah’s eyes were the last thing he saw.
    ________________ • ________________
    Ilene Stout entered the room. As was her usual route she took her seat, picked up the clipboard, and scanned down her upturned nose at the list of prisoners. She brushed her bobbed black hair behind one ear, a signal that she was ready to begin.
    â€œPlease, gentlemen have a seat so we can get started.” Her voice gnawed on Trevor’s nerves. She sat at the edge of her chair and waited for the room to fall silent. Both hands smoothed down the sides of her blouse. She was a skinny woman, not unhealthy, but extremely unattractive. Trevor guessed she worked out excessively during much of her extra time, therefore the cause of her lack of appeal. She showed no signs of being anorexic or bulimic, though. The muttered conversation died around the room. Could she hear what they were saying? The sound of a beetle walking across the floor could have been heard in the next room.
    â€œHow is everyone today?” she asked so sweetly that the sound was bitter to each man’s ears. Her attempt at acting sincere was sickening.
    â€œFine,” five or so men answered. Trevor rolled his eyes.
    â€œWould anyone wish to discuss anything on their minds?”
    Silence.
    â€œGentlemen, please feel comfortable and free to express yourselves here.” Her beady black eyes stared into each face. “If no one is going to volunteer I’m going to choose someone to start today’s conversation.” The men sat motionless, and waited for the impending doom. No one wished to speak a word in the presence of Ilene Stout. She was the black widow of the prison. Worse than any camera, she lurked in the shadows and corners, jumping out to